Team Therapy
by MissMarvelous13
Summary: The team undergoes mandatory therapy. The REDs do everything in their power to make this as hard as possible.
1. Chapter 1

**I've had this idea for a while now. I hope you guys like it. I'm still working on Closer than Family, but I'd really rather focus on this right now. Let me know what you guys think! :)**

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 **Chapter One: Medic**

"I don't have anything to say." Medic dismissed. He finished cleaning the needles he had used for surgery earlier that day. He placed them on the stainless steel table beside him in a perfectly straight line. Each needle had been devoid of the blood they previously held. All blood samples were now stored at perfect temperature in his closet.

"I don't believe that." The designated team therapist deadpanned. She wore a grey business suit, and her chestnut hair was cut right below her chin. Her steely eyes were cold behind the frames that shielded them, and pale fingers gripped the pen tighter in her right hand. She had been fighting with Medic for the past half hour, trying to get a word out of him. "Mr. Kastner, may I call you that?"

"Medic is fine."

"You were instructed to cooperate with me. You know the consequences should you not." The therapist, or Miss Julie Harrison as she introduced herself, warned. Medic set the needle he was working with down on the table. Three days ago, after a long fight over control points at Dustbowl, the RED team was informed by a hesitant Miss Pauling that they would all be undergoing therapy. Each person would have a private session first, and once everyone had met with the therapist, the team was to undergo a group therapy session. Miss Pauling was also quick to silence the rising protests with a warning that should a teammate refuse to speak with the therapist, that teammate would be shipped off to parts unknown as retribution, with no hope for reconciliation. And with that, each teammate took the therapy session a little more seriously. But, that didn't mean they were going to make it easy for the psychologist.

Miss Julie Harrison was a very cold-hearted woman from what the team had seen. She was older, possibly even older than Medic himself, and took no nonsense. For this, Medic could only assume she was the only one brave (or stupid) enough to deal with the mercenaries. She had a bad attitude, and didn't seem to sugarcoat anything. It was a wonder why she decided to go into the mental health field to begin with. But then again, she was speaking to a doctor who typically spent his free time dissecting his teammates and performing experiments on them under the guise as a "physical."

"I have no respect for your profession," Medic began.

"And I none for yours," Miss Harrison retaliated. "So let's begin. What do you like to do for fun?"

"You can't be serious." Medic sighed. "Paperwork."

"That doesn't sound very exciting." Miss Harrison pressed.

"It isn't but it's calming." Medic explained. He walked over to the sink on the other side of the infirmary to begin washing his bare hands. The cleaning fluid smell strongly permeated the room before dying down. He dried his hands on his pants, and turned back to Miss Harrison. "Next."

"Tell me about your family. Are your parents still alive?" Miss Harrison looked up from her clipboard.

"No." Medic thought. "I actually have no idea. I suppose they probably are deceased, but I cannot say for sure. It's been twenty years since I last spoke to my parents. Having seen them, even longer than that."

"Are you married?" Miss Harrison asked without looking up, hand still writing.

"Ha, hardly." Medic rolled his eyes. "Legally yes."

"Please elaborate."

"My wife and I are married eight years now. Six of those eight years I had no idea she was alive. I suppose now we're a bit…closer. But that only seems to be because of the children." Medic waved his hand flippantly. He hated giving up information about his personal life. After Mann Co. fell apart and was put back together over a year ago, most of his private life had been leaked to his teammates. However, once things had settled down and returned back to normal, there seemed to be a shared, silent agreement between the team that their personal lives would not be discussed.

"You have children?" Miss Harrison asked. If Medic wasn't wrong, he detected a hint of surprise in her voice. That was the first emotion he seemed to get out of her all day.

"Ja, drei." Medic answered. He didn't seem to realize that his internal translator had momentarily failed. He was too caught up in his thoughts to catch it. Miss Harrison made a mental note of it. "Twins, they are eight years old now, and a one year old."

"Cute." Miss Harrison answered. "Tell me about them."

"Klaus and Ella are very close. I missed out on most of their younger years, but I do get to occasionally see them when work permits. Klaus, I believe, will make a good surgeon one day. Ella, I cannot say. She takes after her mother, meaning that she is very unpredictable. Violet is obviously still too young to tell, but she seems to be very calm for her age. I think I've only ever heard her cry but twice. It's very peculiar."

"That is interesting." Miss Harrison responded with a monotone voice. Medic could tell she really didn't care. The Administrator must have been paying the woman quite well for the information she was gathering on the mercenaries. Not only did she have a recording of what the mercenaries were discussing aloud, she had physical evidence of written word. "And how is your relationship with your immediate family?"

"As I mentioned earlier, my relationship with Rose is strained at best, and nonexistent at worse. There is definitely room for improvement, however I simply do not have the time to deal with her personal issues on top of trying to manage that of a team of men. My relationship with my children is much better. We spend a lot of time with each other, and occasionally I get letters or phone calls from them, telling me about their day and what's going on in their life. They are all extremely independent, a trait, I can only assume, inherited from both their mother and I."

"Your relationship with Rose, was it?" Miss Harrison finally looked up. "Would you change any aspect of it if possible?"

Medic thought for a moment. "If I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, I wouldn't change a thing. There are things about our relationship that I absolutely despise, and there are things that I love about her. I still care very much for her. It's just the affection I feel towards her is minimal. I would appreciate if we change the subject now."

"Very well." Miss Harrison concluded writing. "Let's talk about your career, shall we?"

"I wouldn't change a thing."

"This is off the books, Medic." Miss Harrison assured. Medic knew nothing was ever really off the books. "What do you like about working for Mann Co?"

"I have resources to fund my research." Medic explained simply. "I am autonomous in what I do. The battlefield is something akin to a good way of researching how well my teammates perform with the enhancements that I've performed on them. Not only them, but the various equipment that I've built as well."

Medic was now sitting on the end of the surgical table, knees having worn themselves out from standing for so long. Miss Harrison had claimed his desk as soon as she arrived, and he didn't bother fighting it in the middle of surgery on Scout. He had looked at his medigun in approval and waited for her to finish writing.

"And what don't you like about this job?" Miss Harrison asked the lottery winning question.

"What don't I like about this job?" Medic laughed. "For one, Mann Co wouldn't possibly be harmed in sparing more supplies for medical purposes. Add increased rations and personal supplies and we'd be perfectly fine."

"I'll be sure to make note of that to pass along to Miss Pauling." Miss Harrison nodded. "Could you provide me a list of items in which you need?"

Medic pointed to a sheet that was laying atop a stack of papers on his desk. "Already have."

"This is in German." Miss Harrison squinted.

"Miss Pauling has asked me to tutor her in German. She'll have no problem reading it."

"I see," Miss Harrison tucked the paper away into the stack that was clipped to her cardboard. "Moving on: how is your relationship with your team?"

Medic took some time to think the question over. How was his relationship with the members of the team? That was a good question. "I would say in good standing. There are somethings that annoy me, such as Scout, Spy's smoking, and Demo's drinking. But I like to think that those are just quirks to their personalities. We've functioned fairly well from this point. And even at our lowest, we've managed to stick together to accomplish our goals."

"Would you consider anyone on the team a friend?"

"I would prefer the term acquaintance."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why."

"I can only assume that a friend is whom one would share intimate details of one's private life to. Someone whom one could confide in. I share none of that with any of these people." Medic explained curtly.

"Not even Heavy?" Miss Harrison pressed.

Medic hesitated. He did share quite a bit of his personal life with him, and Heavy did so with Medic. Heavy's daughter even referred to Medic as an uncle, and Medic's children did the same with Heavy. "We separate our work life from our private life."

"You just defined friendship as someone in whom one could confide in. By that, I can only assume that Heavy and you are friends." Miss Harrison continued to write.

"Fine. Heavy and I are friends." Medic rolled his eyes.

"Precisely." Miss Harrison punctuated with her pen. "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Why is the Administrator requiring this of us? What is her motivation?" Medic interrogated.

"That is all for today. Thank you for your time, Medic." Miss Harrison dismissed. She began packing up, with Medic glaring at her the entire time. Medic watched as she pushed her way through the infirmary doors and disappeared around the corner. He huffed to himself and swung his legs off of the surgical table. He took a seat at his desk and began working on his paperwork. He felt strange, almost like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He didn't believe therapy helped. It was a complete placebo effect. He put his pen down and sighed. He reached over and picked up his phone. It rang twice.

"'Ello?" Rose called through the phone.

"Rose?" Medic asked.

"Hans?"

"I just wanted to call to tell you I still hate you."

"I hate you too."

Medic smiled to himself with bliss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two. Enjoy the grumpy Sniper!**

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 **Chapter Two: Sniper**

Miss Harrison made her way through the base with a purpose. Most of the mercenaries had taken up hiding spots in their own personal quarters in an effort to dissuade Miss Harrison from choosing them as her next target. A few of the braver souls had opted to continue through their day as normal. Heavy was in his shop working on cleaning his minigun. Medic had continued working in his infirmary after his interrogation. Spy was alone in his smoking room. Scout, Pyro, Demo and Soldier were hiding in their respective areas. Engineer and Sniper were both in the garage. The sound of machine equipment was what had drawn Miss Harrison to them next.

As she walked out the back door of the REDs living quarters, she was hit with sweltering heat. The sun held no remorse as it beat down on the sandy plains. She held her pen and papers tighter as a wind swept through, threatening to take the papers with it. She swallowed, already becoming thirsty, before heading towards the sound of the machinery. She was not used to this kind of heat, and she did not intend to become acquainted with it either. The sand was already dusting her pants up, and she concluded that heels were a poor choice for this terrain. Despite the awful environment, she entered the shade of the garage, welcoming the fans' cool air.

There were a few cars in the garage, ranging from a torch red sports car, to an old pick-up truck and finally the camper van which was currently torn apart. From what she could see, there were mechanical parts strewn across the concrete floor in an orderly fashion. Various belts and metal components were lined up in preparation for the next task. She stood at the entrance of one of the open bay doors and studied the two men for a brief moment. The sound of a power drill was deafening to her ears. Engineer had set it aside and continued to focus on pulling something out of the car. Sniper was trying to help, but couldn't manage to get his hands around whatever they were pulling on.

"Hold on, now, Sniper," Engineer backed away. "I'll try something else. Boy, this bolt does not want to come loose."

"I hear ya, mate. I just hope the noise doesn't attract the she-devil." Sniper answered flippantly. Miss Harrison made a mental note of that. She was already forming her approach towards the two men in her mind. She watched as Engineer turned to the schematics of the car at his work bench. Sniper was soon by his side. Engineer held a thumb to his chin and made a humming noise.

"I don't know, partner, this design is really flawed. You might as well just buy another van. It just ain't worth fixin'." Engineer concluded. He traced his finger along a line in the engine's design.

"Don't say that, mate. It's been good to me for years. You said you could help fix it." Sniper claimed. He seemed offended. "It's just a timing belt."

"Sure, I can." Engineer turned to him. "But that ain't gonna guarantee that it'll be running like new. Timing belts are subjective to the vehicle, and sorry to say, brother, but your van isn't in that great of shape."

"Ah, let's just do what we can, huh?" Sniper pressed. He really didn't want to get rid of his home. He hated staying in the living quarters with the other men, and he'll be damned if he lost his last ounce of privacy. Sure, he had tons of money saved up, and it would be no matter buying another van, but this was _his_ van. He had it for years and to him, having to get rid of it was akin to putting the family dog down. There were too many good memories in there. He wasn't going to find another camper van like it.

Miss Harrison took the opportunity of the pause in the conversation to clear her throat to announce her presence. Both men muttered their own curse word, knowing what was to come. Sniper and Engineer turned to face the woman. Just as Sniper was about to open his mouth to dismiss himself, and ditch Engineer with the evil woman, Engineer had beat him to the punch.

"Well, I'm going to go head on in and help Pyro make some lunch. If ya'll need anything, let me know!" And with that, Engineer was out the garage and into the distance. Miss Harrison raised an eyebrow at Sniper, and he glared at his friend.

"Bloody bogan," Sniper cursed. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose and spat. How could Engineer leave him in this situation? He made sure to get him back one day. He didn't know how, but one day, Engineer will pay.

"Well, Mr. Mundy, let's began, shall we?" Miss Harrison suggested in a threatening tone.

Sniper moaned in annoyance and motioned for her to follow him towards a couple of wooden chairs and a table. The table had been set up for when the men would take breaks from working on whatever projects they had planned. Sniper was planning on camping in his van offsite and out of the way to be conveniently absent for his therapy session. He had already been subjected to interrogation by a stupid director years ago. Now he had to deal with this bullshit. "In the name of protection of Mann Co. assets," as Miss Pauling had worded it. And if he were to fight the therapist then he would be punished. The therapist should have known better if he was to be honest with them. You don't ask a trained killer personal questions. It's just asking for trouble.

"As you probably know, I am Miss Harrison, and I will be counseling you today and Monday afternoon when we have the group therapy session. I'm just going to ask a few standard questions to get a look at what's going on in your head. Do you have any questions before we begin?" Miss Harrison asked.

"Yeah, why the hell is this being mandated?" Sniper demanded.

"The Administrator has her reasons, to which I have not been briefed on. So I cannot answer that for certain, nor do I wish to pass along invalid information." Miss Harrison's voice was a monotone.

"Of course." Sniper responded sarcastically.

"Let's start off simple: how do you feel about working for Mann Co.?" Miss Harrison asked, uncapping her pen and turning the clipboard so she could write.

"It's fine. I'm happy with my job. I get to do what I want and get paid for it." Sniper crossed his arms. He just wanted to get it over with, so he was going to make up half-assed answers to hopefully get her to shut up.

"And why do you like being a Sniper?" Miss Harrison pressed.

"I like being a Sniper because I like the challenges. You never know what is going to come your way. You think you're just going to blow one target's head off and before you know it, his mate comes running in front of him. Now you got two targets in one shot. That's efficiency at work, mate." Sniper responded proudly. He had tried to explain why he liked being a Sniper before to his parents, and had gotten fed up with the political correctness of his answers. Now, he wasn't going to hold back in expressing his love for killing people. "Good job stability too. Everyone wants someone dead."

"I see," Miss Harrison wrote down his words and thoughts. "If you could change something about your job, what would you change?"

Sniper knew that his answer to this question was subjective. It would most definitely determine his employment status with Mann Co by the end of the day. "There's not much I would change. The only thing I would demand would be more supplies."

"Funny," Miss Harrison remarked. Sniper gave her a questioning look. "Your Medic requested the same. How do you feel about your relationship with your team?"

"What do you mean?" Sniper asked. They were a team. That was it. They functioned well together, albeit some bickering.

"Do you feel as though you get along with your teammates? Any of which that frustrate you?" Miss Harrison explained. Sniper was much easier to deal with than Medic. At least she didn't have to spend as much time getting answers out of him. She had a feeling though, that he was not explaining his feelings completely.

"I get along with everyone. Sure, we spend a lot of time, and I mean a lot of time, together. We're packed in so of course we're going to fight every now and then. But we're all mates, we all watch each other's backs, well except for maybe Spy, but that's a whole separate issue in itself." Sniper waved his hand across the table dismissively.

"Can you give me an example of a fight that broke out in the past? And please elaborate on the issue with Spy?" Miss Harrison instructed, not taking her eyes off of her writing.

Give an example of a fight. Where to begin? Numerous scenarios ran through Sniper's head; Scout stealing and hiding the remote for the TV and forgetting where he put it, the historic movie night of 1972 in which permanent lines were now drawn between teammates, that one time Spy hid Sniper's coffee grains, the time Engineer thought it was a good team building exercise to race go-karts… The list went on and on. He picked the most recent of fights that broke out among the team. "The most recent fight that happened among the team was when Scout set fire to the kitchen. I've never seen so many grown men freak out over not having food. I mean, we get paid _very_ well. All we had to do was go to the grocery store in town. And even _that_ was an adventure in itself. Those mongrels can't behave themselves for five minutes." Sniper threw his arms up in the air. "Unbelievable."

"I see, and please explain your relationship with Spy." Miss Harrison ordered. She couldn't understand how going to the grocery store was an epic adventure, but she supposed the circumstances were different when you put a bunch of serial killers together in one room.

"The most annoying, bloody disgrace of – let me just save the semantics. I don't like him. I can't stand to be in the same room with him." Sniper's face seemed to redden with the thought of Spy.

"And why is that?"

"I just can't trust him. I never know what he's going to do next." Sniper explained. "I'm good at reading people. I can predict what they're going to do next, but Spy – I have no idea what he even does half the time."

"Do you think because you hold resentment towards the BLU team's Spy, that you project that resentment towards your own Spy?" Miss Harrison held a finger to her temple.

"The BLU Spy doesn't steal my cigarettes, or coffee, or even my hat. I hardly think so."

"So you two seem to have a bit of a childish rivalry going on." Miss Harrison concluded.

"Childish rivalry?" Sniper asked astounded. "This man torments me on a daily basis just for shits and giggles. In fact," Sniper stood up, grabbed his kukri from its sleeve, and looked around in paranoia, "I wouldn't be surprised if that bloody backstabbin' spook was around here listening to this now."

"It seems as though Spy has a psychotic hold over you," Miss Harrison made a disgusted face. "I'll be sure to have this reviewed."

"What?" Sniper glared. "That's just how Spy is. He torments everyone for fun."

"I see that," Miss Harrison nodded. "Let's change subjects. Let's talk about your family."

"No way." Sniper glared. "Family is private. You got what you wanted out of me. You're only here to interview the team, not their private life."

"It seems here, that both of your parents are dead." Miss Harrison ignored his protest, earning a groan from Sniper. "And that you're engaged."

"How the hell… How did you know that?" Sniper asked incredulously.

"Mann Co likes to keep tabs on who they're working with. You shouldn't be surprised." Miss Harrison explained. "Tell me about her."

"No." Sniper glared. "My own team doesn't even know I'm engaged."

"Do I have to remind you of the consequences of not cooperating, Mr. Mundy?"

Sniper groaned with annoyance and frustration. "What about it?"

"How long have you known her?"

"A few years now. When Mann Co went to pot back a few years, we met in the outback. She uh, she has a similar profession, so it just seemed natural. Of course, she was also spying on me so it wasn't that natural but that's all over with now." Sniper thought. He felt unsure of whether he should be explaining that his fiancée is a mass murderer.

"Do you talk to her often?"

"Here and there. She's just as busy as I am, so it's few and far between." Sniper crossed his arms. "Why is this important?"

"Sometimes family can have an impact on your performance at work." Miss Harrison explained.

"Well, it doesn't bother me." Sniper concluded. "If you're done now, I'd like to continue working."

"Certainly." Miss Harrison dismissed. She felt as though she got a lot of information already. The Administrator should be happy with that. Miss Harrison felt Sniper's glare as she left to go find her next target. He was not a happy man. How dare she force answers out of him? He wished with all his might that she didn't have immunity. It would have made his Friday a little easier.

He shook his head and took the sharpening stone from the toolbox and began running it along the blade of his kukri. He found the motion to be fairly calming, and entrancing. It allowed him some stress relief and the clearing of his thoughts. After all he'd been through, this was easily the most stressful part of his job. He hated talking about his thoughts and feelings. He'd rather not think and just perform. The only saving thought was that it would all be over soon. The woman would be gone and his secrets would be safe with a Mann Co. As long as he didn't break any rules or threaten them, it would stay there, and he would have a job. That was all he truly cared about.


End file.
